


Trial and Error

by CommonNonsense



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward First Times, Bad Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, but it gets better, high potential for secondhand embarrassment I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense
Summary: Hanzo's had a lot of thoughts about how it would be when they finally fell into bed together, but "bad" was not among them.They'll figure it out eventually.





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a discussion I saw some months ago about how nobody really wants to write about how awkward/bad sex can actually be sometimes, which I absolutely took as a challenge.

Hanzo has been waiting for this for  _ ages. _

Anticipation prickles down his spine as he sits cross-legged on McCree's bed, listening to the tap run in the bathroom. He glances around the room, though he is long familiar with it from the many times he has visited McCree here in the last year. The alternative is to stare holes into the door until McCree comes back out.

It's been over a month. It's certainly been one of the best months in Hanzo's life, make no mistake--one that leaves Hanzo a little breathless if he thinks on it too long--but they've still been left waiting. For all their attempts, for all the sweet kisses and whispered confessions in the meantime, they've simply never quite made it to bed yet. Not for lack of effort--there has been more than one evening they intended to end here, but something always arose. One date ended in an emergency mission in Spain. Two weeks solid kept them apart entirely, with McCree sent back to the United States on an investigative mission while Hanzo remained in Gibraltar. Every other night, someone was too tired, or too busy, or pulled aside at the last second by an oblivious colleague. (Hanzo, in particular, will never forgive Genji for interrupting last week's attempt with an "urgent matter" that turned out to be him asking for advice on some mission info that, really, could have waited until the next morning. Or perhaps even the afternoon.)

But now, they're in the clear. No missions to keep them apart, no coworkers to interrupt. They had managed to take a real date in Gibraltar proper, with dinner and drinks and plenty of playful flirting. They had gotten back to the base and to McCree's dorm unobserved (other than by poor Athena who, bless her, had not said anything about McCree indiscreetly squeezing Hanzo's ass on the way in). There is nothing save a minute or two more between them.

Hanzo is equal parts excited and  _ terrified. _

The door clicks and slides open, and Hanzo quicky shoves aside his uncertainty. McCree stands in the doorway, dramatically lit from behind by the bathroom light. The process of brushing his teeth had apparently necessitated the loss of his shirt. A tragic loss, Hanzo's sure.

"Sorry 'bout that," McCree says with a lazy grin, completely unapologetic. He leans one arm against the doorway, striking a casual pose. Hanzo lazily follows the lines of his body, from the sculpted lines of his arms to the thick hair on his chest that makes a trail to his jeans. "Hope I didn't keep you waitin' too long."

"You certainly took long enough," Hanzo retorts, although something about the sight before him has left him a little too distracted to be properly annoyed.

McCree chuckles as he crosses the room, coming to a stop in front of Hanzo.  He waits for Hanzo to unfold his arms before stepping into his space and resting a knee on the bed. He loops his arms lazily around Hanzo's shoulders. "I had a beer with dinner and a smoke after," he says, "and I can't imagine you wantin' to kiss that too much."

Hanzo grumbles anyway, though he agrees and probably would have complained about it. McCree laughs again, giving him a fond smile before dipping down to kiss him.

This is at least familiar enough. For all they've had to wait the rest of it, they've filled the time between with plenty of kisses. Before, Hanzo had never particularly understood the appeal of kissing in itself. Perhaps his other experiences were awful, or perhaps it is just McCree's influence; either way, he could happily do it forever now, if he weren't so intent on something else.

The kiss starts out as a simple thing, but quickly evolves into a breathy play of teeth and tongue, hands sliding away from the safety of waists and shoulders to explore new expanses of skin. Hanzo wraps his arms around McCree's middle to drag him down into his lap. McCree makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, settling his weight across Hanzo's thighs.

"Impatient, aren't you," McCree teases.

"Are you not?" Hanzo retorts, sliding his hands up McCree's belly and ribs, reveling in the feel of heated skin under his palms.

McCree grins lazily. "I wouldn't say  _ impatient,"  _ he replies. "But you got me there--I'd be lyin' if I said I hadn't been lookin' forward to this."

As if he could pretend he wanted it any less than Hanzo did. 

The impatience wins out, anyway. Hanzo surges up to crush their mouths together again, breaking through that smug smile with a curl of his tongue. McCree groans softly, and Hanzo takes that as a sign to continue. He wrestles McCree out of his lap and onto the bed, shoving him back against the headboard. The board rattles and McCree laughs a nervous "whoops," but Hanzo ignores this as he drops himself into McCree's lap. A hand in McCree's hair makes him gasp, and a tug bares his neck to Hanzo's mouth. McCree stiffens when Hanzo's teeth scrape his neck, which seems promising, but then leans away entirely when Hanzo yanks at his belt buckle.

"Hold on there," he says, covering Hanzo's hand with his own. "We in some kind of rush?"

Hanzo pauses. "No?" he answers carefully. "Is something wrong?"

"Just bein' a bit rough, don't you think?" 

"I . . . did not realize, no." Hanzo sits back and removes his hand. He did not think he was being any rougher than usual--although his last encounter had been a one-off so many years ago that he cannot remember their face, and tenderness had not been much of a factor then.

McCree gives a lopsided smile. "Not that I'm not into that sometimes, but maybe not right now," he says. He rubs a hand soothingly along Hanzo's side, leaving tingling warmth in its wake. "Took us a good while to get here. Kinda want to take our time with it, you know?"

"Of course." Hanzo swallows down the shame starting to creep up his throat. "My apologies."

"S'alright." McCree drops a reassuring kiss at the corner of his mouth, then another a little closer, until Hanzo finally gives in. He lets McCree guide it this time, following him back into a slower, though by no means less eager, kiss.

He sighs when McCree breaks away from his mouth again to leave kisses along his jaw, then his neck. One of McCree's hands slides down his hip, thumb pressing into the crease of his thigh, then stroking over his half-hard cock in his jeans. His other hand moves up, metal cold against Hanzo's skin, pausing to squeeze his pec, then to rub a thumb over his nipple. It doesn't do much for Hanzo, admittedly, but he still enjoys the attention and touch. Even more so when McCree's mouth joins in, sucking little red marks into the other side of his chest. He hums, puts his hands over McCree's to encourage him--

"Ow!" 

"Shit, sorry!" McCree yelps, ripping his arm back; he would slam into and break the headboard behind him if weren't for Hanzo's iron grip on his prosthetic wrist. Hanzo forcefully pushes McCree's hand away from his chest. "Sorry, honeybee. Didn't mean to pinch ya like that. Forget sometimes how touchy this hand can be." 

Hanzo presses his palm over his pec, though the pressure does very little for the sting. "It is fine," he says through gritted teeth. He inhales deeply and lets out the breath, and with it the anger that had surged alongside the pain. "It was not that bad."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I will survive." He gives McCree a rueful smile. "Just be more careful."

"'Course. Sorry, sugar." McCree gently squeezes where his other hand still rests over Hanzo's groin. "I tend to be better about it where it matters, anyway."

Hanzo snorts, and lets McCree push him sideways onto the pillows.

It's not much of an improvement, though. He lets McCree pull off his jeans and claim his mouth again, arches up as McCree's hand slides under the band of his underwear and cups his cock. The first couple of strokes send shocks of pleasure through him, but only the first few--after that, his body seems to realize that McCree's grip is entirely too gentle to do anything more. He tries to return the favor, slinging an arm around McCree's neck and worming his other hand between them. The feel of McCree's length hot in his hand is thrilling in its own way, but not enough; likewise, McCree's hips stutter at first when he's touched, but Hanzo can sense his interest waning quickly. Besides that, after all the time spent pining and waiting, the idea of awkward mutual handjobs simply doesn't hold the same appeal. 

Hanzo flips them over, pressing McCree on his back into the sheets. McCree stretches out, arms above his head, as he watches Hanzo with interest. His lips part to speak but Hanzo cuts him off with a kiss, then interrupts him further with a slow roll of his hips. Whatever McCree was going to say dissolves into a soft sigh against Hanzo's mouth. Hanzo does it again, grinding his cock more firmly against McCree's, and the sigh becomes a moan.

"Fuck, that's better," McCree breathes as Hanzo establishes a rhythm. "More, c'mon."

Hanzo obliges, leaning forward as he does to cover McCree's body with his own. He slips one hand between them to awkwardly work down his underwear, then McCree's, both pairs left tangled around their thighs. Hanzo can't help a quiet groan of his own as they are finally left skin-to-skin.

As the pleasure starts to build, Hanzo slides his other hand up, over McCree's chest, his shoulder, the curves of his arm, and settles on his wrist. It's the quick work of a second to take both of McCree's wrists in his hand, pinning them to the sheets. McCree tests his grip, then mumbles something against his lips.

"Yes," Hanzo sighs, an utterly meaningless statement.

McCree jerks his head away. "No, Hanzo-- _ hands,"  _ he says, his voice tight with something much different than arousal. He jerks sharply against Hanzo's hold again and Hanzo, alarmed, immediately releases him and sits back. 

McCree sits up and doesn't look at Hanzo for a moment, rubbing his right wrist as though pained. His breathing is shallow and quick. "Are you hurt?" Hanzo asks, fear dousing his interest in an instant. He starts to reach out, then thinks better of it and takes his hand back.

"No, no," McCree says with a shake of his head. He takes a slow, deep breath and lets it all out in a huff. He gives Hanzo a weak smile. "Just, uh, have a thing about my hands bein' held down."

Hanzo's stomach leaps into his throat, nearly making him gag. "Oh, no. Jesse, I am sorry, I did not realize--why did you not say something?"

"Didn't really know it'd be that bad, myself. It hasn't come up in a few years now, and before it wasn't so bad." The smile turns rueful. "Guess I had a few more run-ins with folks who like to tie me up for less enjoyable reasons since then."

Hanzo strokes the back of McCree's wrist apologetically. "I am sorry," he says again. "Perhaps I should have asked."

"It's alright," McCree says gently. "Promise." He turns his hand to grip Hanzo's. "Wasn't that bad, all things considered. Coulda been way worse." 

Hanzo is still unconvinced, but he lets the matter drop. 

He stares down at their joined hands. As the worry for McCree's wellbeing recedes, it is replaced by a wave of disgust--disgust at himself, at the progression of the night, at his sheer inability to do the most basic of things. He must make a face, because McCree chuckles softly. 

"Reckon we're not too good at this," he says.

Hanzo growls and drops McCree's hand. He tucks himself back into his boxer briefs, now feeling ridiculous, and flops down onto the pillow. He cannot help glaring up at the ceiling, as though it is responsible for his frustration, before he covers his eyes in the crook of his arm. 

"Yeah," McCree says as he follows suit, "me too." He drops his head beside Hanzo's on the pillow and sighs.

Silence fills the space between them for a time. Hanzo wonders if they should simply give up. Irritated and embarrassed, he is more and more tempted to slink away to his own quarters. Perhaps he could remain there forever, and perhaps McCree would forget about how incompetent he is one day.

He feels the pillow shift slightly beside him. "You alright?" McCree asks softly.

Hanzo snorts. "Hardly. This has been an unmitigated disaster."

"Hard to argue with you there." McCree blows out a breath. "This shouldn't be so hard, right? Just two adults tryin' to show each other a good time. It's not rocket science."

"And yet, all we have accomplished is nearly harming or traumatizing one another."

"No kiddin'. Hope you don't think too bad of me after all this." 

He laughs a little, forced. The sound makes Hanzo lift his arm, but McCree won't meet his gaze. 

"You know," McCree says, "I was real nervous today, thinkin' about this. All worried that we'd get here and I'd fuck it up somehow. Kept tellin' myself I was worried about nothing, that I'd usually done just fine before, but apparently I was right."

"You were nervous?"

"'Course I was. Been thinkin' about this, about you, for months now." McCree wipes his hand down his face, laughing weakly into his palm. "Not sure I've ever met someone as amazing as you are. And you aren't just some one-night stand, y'know? This matters.  _ You _ matter. If it were just about gettin' off and callin' it good, that might be one thing, but . . . well, it ain't, so."

He sighs. "It's dumb, I know, but it's just--somethin' I wanted to do right, I guess. Not to mention embarrassing as shit." 

Hanzo watches him, feeling a knot loosen in his chest.

"I was nervous as well," he admits. 

McCree turns his head toward him on the pillow. "Yeah?"

"It has been . . . some time since I have been with anyone. It was not a priority in the past few years, as you can imagine." Hanzo's pride rebels at his own confession, but even as it does, his chest starts to feel lighter still. "And you are important to me as well. Moreso than anyone I have been with before, in fact."

Hanzo reaches out to take McCree's hand where it rests on his stomach, folding their fingers together. "Perhaps we have been overthinking this," he says softly.

"Maybe."

A silence falls between them for a time. McCree shifts his hold on Hanzo's hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a dry kiss between his knuckles that makes Hanzo's breath hitch. "I'm sorry, sugar," he murmurs, lips brushing against Hanzo's skin. "Last half of this night hasn't quite gone how I planned."

"You do not need to apologize, Jesse. We have both had our difficulties."

"Maybe." A flash of a smile. McCree scoots a little closer, putting his head on Hanzo's pillow. He nudges his nose under and against Hanzo's with a soft sigh. Hanzo closes his eyes, breathing deep and letting the closeness drain away the rest of his tension. After a moment, McCree closes the last space between them and kisses him gently; he backs away after a moment, but Hanzo follows. At least he can do this right.

They lay together for a while that way, exchanging easy kisses. If nothing else, this is easy, something they are both familiar with and can find comfort in. The last threads of frustration dissolve into nothingness, and soon they are comfortable enough again to tuck in close against one another, twining legs and resting hands on hips and backs. 

Hanzo doesn't realize he's tucked his thigh between McCree's until McCree groans against his mouth. His hand sweeps down Hanzo's back from shoulder to waist, and he pulls back to look at Hanzo with hooded eyes. Belatedly, Hanzo realizes that he himself is breathing a little harder. 

"You, uh." McCree licks his lips, a flash of pink that Hanzo's eye is immediately drawn to. "You wanna try this again?"

"Can we actually manage it like competent adults?"

"Think so." McCree kisses his forehead. "If we actually use words and such." Another kiss beside his nose. "Wanna try, at least." He shifts down to kiss Hanzo's throat, and that is Hanzo's undoing.

"Yes," he breathes, and he feels McCree smile against his skin. Hanzo drags his hand down McCree's back and over his hip, stroking gently over the bulge at his front that was just begun to fill out again. "Just tell me what to do."

Despite his confidence, McCree gives a nervous little laugh against Hanzo's collarbone. "Not real sure where to start," he admits.

"Start simple. How you do you like to be touched?"

"Ah . . ." McCree trails off a little as Hanzo drags the tips of his fingers over his clothed cock. "Fair bit lighter than you were doin' before, actually." Hanzo obliges, shifting to gently stroke through McCree's underwear, and McCree lets out a heavy sigh and rests his brow against Hanzo's chest. "Yeah, like that."

Confidence renewed, Hanzo tugs McCree's boxer briefs down, helps him to pull them off his legs and resettle. A low, pleased hum rumbles in McCree's chest as Hanzo takes him in hand again. 

"What about you?" McCree asks, hand sliding down Hanzo's hip and over his thigh. "Gathered you like it a bit rougher, but what else?"

"I—" Hanzo starts, then falters. "It has been . . . some time. I do not know if there is anything I can definitively say I like anymore."

McCree hums, a noise that sounds equal parts thoughtful and pleased. "Understandable," he says, and pauses as his hips stutter to the pull of Hanzo's hand. Hanzo lets himself feel a brief moment of pride for distracting him. McCree's hand slides back up his side to cup his pec again, gently squeezing. "This didn't seem to do that much for you before."

"No," Hanzo admits. "I do not  _ dislike _ it, it simply does not do much." 

"Shame. They're awful nice." McCree squeezes again, then cranes his head down to leave several kisses along the meat of his pec. He moves up, and the next kiss he lays in the valley of Hanzo's throat makes him suck in a breath. "Did notice this seemed to work for you, though . . ."

Hanzo can only answer with a noise he refuses to admit is a whine. Soft lips and coarse facial hair make for a maddening combination as McCree noses up his neck and into the sensitive dip behind Hanzo's ear. McCree's hand slips into his underwear just as his teeth scrape the edge of Hanzo's jaw, and all Hanzo's breath leaves him in a gasp. 

McCree scoots nearer, closes a hand around them both, and now it's Hanzo's turn to shake and clutch at him, forgetting himself as McCree strokes them together. McCree dips down to catch his mouth in a deep kiss and Hanzo surges up to meet him. A few more pulls and then McCree rolls them over, pressing Hanzo into the mattress as they rock against each other. The slide is neither too gentle nor too rough for either of them, finally a perfect balance, and Hanzo can't bite back his moans as the pleasure builds between them. Their kiss broken, McCree resumes his assault on Hanzo's neck, kissing his way down and sucking hard at the side of his throat. Hanzo swears and digs his nails into McCree's shoulders.

Just as he thinks he's reaching the point of no return, McCree's hips still against his. Hanzo whines aloud when McCree pulls away. "Why would you  _ stop?"  _ he complains. 

McCree gives a rueful grin and a squeeze, making Hanzo bite his lip.  "Just had a question," he says.

" _ What?" _

"How do you feel about, ah, penetration?"

Hanzo didn't think he had air left in his lungs to lose, but he finds the breath knocked out of him anyway.  

"I am not averse to it," he says, more strangled than he would like.

McCree snorts. "'Not averse,' the man says, like a normal person. Gotta give me a bit more than that."

Hanzo worries the inside of his lip. "Preferably if I am the one doing the penetrating," he replies.

"Alright, I regret using that word."

"It is accurate."

"It's also supremely  _ not sexy, _  considering where we are," McCree retorts. He leans over Hanzo, his voice dropping to a rumble Hanzo can feel in his chest. "I'm happy either way, myself, so I wouldn't be  _ averse _ to you fucking me. In fact, I'd be lyin' if I said I hadn't been thinkin' of it for a while now." 

Hanzo sucks in a breath, then nearly headbutts McCree in the chin in his haste to reach the bedside drawer. 

He manages to find a bottle and a sleeve of condoms and toss them on the bed, while McCree sits back on his heels. "How do you wanna do this?" he asks.

Hanzo considers. "On your front?" 

McCree clambers to comply while Hanzo fumbles with the lube. McCree shoves a pillow under his hips before he folds his arms under his head. He watches over his shoulder, eyes crinkled with amusement, as Hanzo pours entirely too much lube over his fingers and impatiently tosses the bottle aside. "You alright there?" McCree asks, not even bothering to hide his laughter. 

"More than," Hanzo replies loftily. He drags his clean hand down the valley of McCree's lower back, watching as McCree shivers in anticipation. "I would be more concerned about yourself, if I were you."

McCree starts to retort, but whatever he was about to say is lost to a breathy sigh as Hanzo dips his first finger in. The sighs soon become moans muffled in the crook of his elbow over the next minute as Hanzo slowly stretches him while intently watching his face for any signs of distress. If there is any discomfort, though, it's buried under McCree's obvious pleasure.

"That's enough, c'mon already," McCree pants once Hanzo's up to three fingers. His hips roll slightly with the movement of Hanzo's hand, rutting against the sheets. 

"Patience," Hanzo chides playfully, pressing a kiss to the tan skin between McCree's shoulder blades. 

"Fuck off with the patience and fuck  _ me, _  Jesus."

Hanzo laughs with his mouth still against McCree's back and reaches for the sleeve of condoms.

The sound that McCree makes when Hanzo finally sinks into him is nothing short of divine.

Hanzo pauses to give them both a chance to breathe and adjust. He has to take a moment, too, as he takes in the sight before him: McCree beneath him, head pillowed on his folded arms, the picture of absolute trust. Every scar on display, every inch of his body bared, every noise he makes, all of it given to Hanzo freely. Hanzo's next breath shudders out of him, and the noise draws McCree's attention. 

"Everything okay?" he asks, craning to look over his shoulder. 

"Yes," Hanzo replies, with a throat feeling tighter than it should. He strokes a hand down McCree's flank before leaning over him, resting his weight on his arms at either side of McCree. "Simply admiring the view."

McCree huffs. "Didn't know you were such a sweet-talker." 

Hanzo hums as he rocks once, testing. "Is this okay?"

"I'd say I'm a bit more than okay."

Hanzo laughs softly as he thrusts again. 

He quickly settles into a rhythm, slow enough to indulge in but deep enough to drag a noise from McCree's throat with each thrust. He is careful, wanting to make this last, to prove that he is capable of the tenderness that McCree deserves. He drags his mouth across McCree's back, smearing kisses against whatever skin he can reach. There are scars there, and soon he plans to catalogue the look of each one and the feel of them against his lips--but that is a project for another day.

It's impossible to hold that pace forever, and Hanzo soon feels like he is being dragged along by need whether he cares to be or not. He thrusts faster, deeper, and McCree swears and groans his appreciation. "Hanzo--fuck--" he gasps, cutting himself off with a throaty cry. 

He pushes himself up on one arm, seeking traction to push back against Hanzo's hips while he reaches beneath himself. He drops his head, and the arch of his neck over the slope of his shoulders is irresistible; Hanzo has mouth pressed to the notch of McCree's spine before he can even think of it, dragging this teeth along the line of the trapezius muscle. He barely remembers himself in time, but manages to get out a "May—" before McCree groans and cuts him off with, "Yes, god, do it—" 

Hanzo nips the slope of McCree's neck, McCree moans loudly, and the sound is sweeter than honey to Hanzo's ears. He comes with a gasp, panting against the faint marks he made in McCree's skin. 

When he catches his breath and the ringing fades from his ears, he has just enough coordination left to reach for McCree's cock, wrapping his hand around McCree's as he pulls desperately. A few more strokes and McCree stiffens with a cry that he muffles in his pillow.

They collapse together, Hanzo heedless of his weight smothering McCree. They lay that way for a minute before McCree starts to wriggle, uncomfortable, and Hanzo peels himself off. "Goddamn, darlin'," McCree says, rolling over to look up at Hanzo with a satisfied grin. 

Hanzo laughs softly as he gets to his feet, feeling briefly unsteady for all the best reasons. 

It's McCree's dorm, but Hanzo knows his way around like it is own, and he helps himself to washcloths from the bathroom to clean them both up. McCree is of no help at all--save to throw the pillow he soiled onto the floor--but the dopey smile on his face makes Hanzo not mind quite so much. 

"I'd offer you a drink, but I think I need a couple more minutes before I try to go anywhere," McCree chuckles. Hanzo slides back into bed, pulling the blanket up over their hips before he plasters himself to McCree's side. "Gonna take me a bit to recover from that."

"I suppose I can forgive you, then."

"How're you feeling?"

Hanzo stretches luxuriantly, draping his arm over McCree's chest as he resettles. "I suppose I am satisfied," he says loftily.

McCree snorts. "High praise." 

Hanzo bends down to soften the teasing with a kiss. For all they've just done, it's the tender press of their lips that makes his breath catch and his heart stutter. When they part, McCree's expression is so adoring that Hanzo isn't quite sure what to do with it, or with the warm, twisting feeling it triggers under his ribs. The enormity of it threatens to overwhelm him; he buries his face in the crook of McCree's neck and swallows that feeling down, where it can smolder in his chest instead of being blurted out in words he has no right to. McCree says nothing, just pets his hand through Hanzo's hair soothingly, as though perhaps he understands.

They lay that way for a quiet moment, but McCree soon breaks the silence with a little laugh. "Don't you go dozin' off now," he murmurs. Like this, Hanzo can feel the rumbling timber of McCree's voice as much as he can hear it. "I ain't done with you quite yet."

"Oh?" Hanzo replies, already a little sleepy in his postcoital bliss despite McCree's warning.

"Been wantin' to do this for  _ months, _  and didn't think I'd ever get to for most of 'em, and  _ then _ we fucked it up for the first half. You think I'm gonna call it good after one go?" He turns his head to brush his lips against Hanzo's ear, sending a shiver down Hanzo's spine. "Give me a few minutes and I'll happily spend the rest of the night takin' you apart."

Hanzo manages to suppress a stupid smile into a playful smirk as he looks down at McCree. "I would like to see you try," he says.

McCree's eyes are dark, rich with equal parts fondness and heat. Hanzo thinks he will never tire of being able to look into them this close. "Glad to."


End file.
